


Submit

by crayyyonn



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doumeki Shizuka had something to prove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submit

Doumeki’s eyes, normally impassive, burned with a feverish intensity. For once, Watanuki was lost for words.

And rightly so. For there were no combination of letters he could verbalize, no language capable of transcribing the sight before him of Doumeki, tall, strong, stoic Doumeki, lost and helpless in the throes of passion and arousal he had methodically elicited in himself and succumbed to.

It had been a joke. Mostly. An aside, a product of days of disgruntled frustration. Watanuki hadn’t expected to be taken quite so seriously. The hand on his forearm and a calm “I’ll do it” had been disquieting in its finality. Dare he even articulate the flash of nervous excitement?

He’s learning that acquiescence, when given by the right person, could be indescribably erotic.

Doumeki’s yukata was in a disarray around him, a splash of muted pattern on the stark white futon. His hands, so gentle and slow in the beginning were now moving in speedy desperation, fingers simultaneously pinching and stroking and flicking and squeezing. Sweat dotted his hairline, his body, leaving glistening skin in its wake. His eyes were defiant and proud even in his submissive state, stubbornly never leaving Watanuki’s, searing right into his heart, his soul.

Watanuki couldn’t help it, didn’t want to even if he could have.

“Shizuka…”

The reverence in his whisper was answered with an equally ragged gasp of his given name before the tenuous link between them snapped. Doumeki’s eyes went blank and fluttered shut as he thrust up, up, up into his fist, muscles tense and straining.

Watanuki followed him, pushing forward into empty air, hypnotized by the way the tendons stood out in Doumeki’s neck. He sank back with a broken moan, the coolness of the walls seeping through his thin shirt yet doing nothing to assuage the tightness in his pants.

The room was silent except for the sounds of rapidly slowing breaths, and it was as if time had stopped.

Then Doumeki broke it by saying his name again, the curliques of the characters swirling around him and pulling him forward until he fell onto the futon, knees on either side of Doumeki’s hips.

After that it was merely a matter of a hand fisting in the collar of his shirt and tugging until their mouths met.


End file.
